


Just Another Friday Night

by Hannibalsimago



Category: Basic Instinct (Movies), Charlie Countryman (2013), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Do not copy/repost this story to another website, GaveYouARareGift2019, Hen Party, Kissing, M/M, Spanking, Subspace, Swearing, Thank god it's not karaoke night, bar tricks, yes...you read that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:03:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibalsimago/pseuds/Hannibalsimago
Summary: Nigel is pinch-hitting as a bartender on a busy Friday night. Adam is an infuriating customer.Will Adam get slugged or kissed?  Or worse?





	Just Another Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justlikeyouimagined](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeyouimagined/gifts).

> This is a gift for dear @emilytrik aka justlikeyouimagined. 
> 
> I wrote this as part of the creative gift exchange over on Hannigram HQ Discord. 
> 
> Yes, I know it's late. It was written weeks ago and I promised @Cinnamaldeide that I would post and RL just ran me over with a Humvee this week. I will go and promptly fall on my linoleum knife. 
> 
> Here it is my dear Fannibal friend. I hope it gives you as much joy as it gives me.
> 
> (And @Cinnamaldeide needs angel wings because I put her through h-e-double toothpicks for this.)

Nigel was beat. Here he was on a Friday night filling in for Peter who had come down with Shingles of all the crazy things to have happened. It was the perfect way to cap off what had been a long week dealing with lawyers, contractors, and accountants for the upcoming expansion. ‘_I should thank my lucky stars; it wasn’t karaoke night.’_ He’s sure he would have murdered someone. 

He poured two beers and placed them in front of two gentlemen who looked as though they just came from the football pitch clad in the local team’s colors. He rang up their tab before taking yet another order for five Cosmopolitans from the raucous group of women at the end of the bar. The anticipation of a large tip was the only thing that made dealing with the ubiquitous cocktail bearable. He couldn’t see the point of ordering fruity drinks. ‘_ It kills the taste of alcohol, and the sugar is going to mess with your system _ .’ Not to mention what a sticky mess it made cleaning up. On a busy night like this, he just wanted simple orders. Shots and a beer. That was more his drinking style. ‘ _ Get in, get drunk, flirt a little, maybe get into a fight, go home _.’ 

He had just delivered the drinks to the women in the hen party when he heard an English voice from behind him.

“A Gimlet please.” 

_ ‘Oh, great! Another fucking cocktail _ .’ But at least it was only three ingredients, so that wasn’t too bad. He grabbed the juicer and a couple of limes. ‘ _ Think I’ll put on a show. We could use some decent tips _.’ And things calmed down a bit behind the bar. At least, he wasn’t in the weeds. He cut the limes in half, actually juggling them in one hand, before grabbing them out of the air and juicing them in a flash. He poured the juice, gin and sugar syrup along with ice in a shaker giving it several hefty shakes before straining it into a coupe glass and setting it before the English gentleman with the green scarf. He heard the hoots and smattering of applause for his juggling skills and the little show of exhibition meant a flood of new orders.

He glanced at ‘green scarf’ who took a sip of the drink, licked his bottom lip and pulled out a fiver before flashing a flirtatious wink at him. He had a face to go with the voice that’s for sure. “It’s perfect. Keep them coming all night, won’t you?” he purred as he pressed the fiver into Nigel’s hand. 

“If you think that’s the price of the drink, I’ll need another bill.” As if he thought that a pretty smile, deep blue eyes and a head full of curls was going to get him out of paying full price. 

“No, that’s just for you. Run a tab, would you? After all, what kind of man do you take me for?”

murmured green scarf. 

‘_ You really don’t want an answer for that question _.’ He nearly smirked but kept his face neutral as he popped the money in the tip jar before making notes on the pad by the cash register.

The two football guys left, and a group of businessmen out on the town took their place at the bar. He didn’t care as long as they kept their hands to themselves and off the women in the hen party. All they wanted was scotch on the rocks which was okay with him. “Top shelf, gentleman?” They agreed, and that was even better.

He wiped the bar down and had a moment to look around. Sherise carried a tray of empties to the bar and gave him her order. He cleared the tray and filled it up with beers, White Russians and other assorted drinks. She picked it up after ringing in the money she collected, and off she went. The hen party was getting ready to move on to another bar, karaoke by the sound of it. Nigel glided over, flirting with them, clearing their sticky glasses. He made sure to kiss the back of the hand of each of the ladies before they left, wishing congratulations to the bride and pushing a wad of bills into the tip jar for his troubles.

The Englishman was finishing his drink, and Nigel mixed him another, giving him another show, tossing the shaker up in the air over his head twice before catching it one-handed and straining it into a glass. He had another five-dollar bill between his index and middle fingers, and as Nigel reached out to take it, he made sure to make contact briefly with Nigel’s fingers before the tip went into the tip jar. Nigel wasn’t going to tell him that he rarely fraternized with the customers, not at this time in the evening. 

The hours went by, and somehow Nigel kept up with it all. He prided himself on not having to pull any of the wait staff behind the bar as he dealt with one order after another. Eventually, the customers spilled out into the street with fewer taking their place. 

Nigel took his time cleaning up and squeezing juices for storage. A busboy came and got several racks of glasses for the dishwasher. Without looking up, he said, “We’re going to be closing up soon.” 

“Wonderful. Then I get you all to myself.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” 

“I find it’s a helpful trait in my profession. Why don’t you let me buy you a drink when you close?”

“I don’t fraternize with the customers.”

“That’s too bad. You miss all the fun and romance that way.”

Nigel shot him a murderous glance. “You can glare at me all you like. You don’t scare me.”

“Is that what you want? To be scared. Cuz I could manage that _ really fucking _ easily for you, no problem.”

Sherise came over, and Nigel handed her the tip money, split into three stacks. “Go split it with Jorge and Hector. Go on, get home to the little ones. I’ll lock up,” said Nigel. 

She looked at the attractive man at the bar and then at Nigel. He shook a finger at her, “I just need to settle his tab and then he’s out of here. Don’t worry about me.” Given the difference in size between the two men and Nigel’s reputation, she didn’t have any doubts he could handle himself if things turned ugly. And there was always the Louisiana slugger under the bar. Not to mention whatever Nigel had on him. Then again, his mouth was almost as lethal as his fists. 

“Thanks, boss. See you next week.” Hector and Jorge came in from the kitchen and the three of them exited the bar while Nigel locked the door and turned off the neon lights. 

“You have to leave now.” growled Nigel. 

“Says who? You’re the boss. You can bend the rules.” There was just enough light coming in from the street lamps to illuminate part of the bar with enough light to see. The mirror behind the bar reflected it back into the room. Nigel let his eyes adjust to the lower ambient light.

“I only bend them when they suit me.” 

“So I suit you then?”

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you? You better be careful someone doesn’t strangle you with that scarf of yours.”

“Let me buy you a drink, please. I must apologize for not introducing myself earlier. Adam Towers,” he said as he extended his hand for a handshake.

Nigel looked him up and down before taking it, “Well, that wasn’t so difficult, was it, Adam? I’m Nigel.”

Adam chuckled, “Yes, I know who you are. I’m a journalist.” 

“If this is a way to get an interview for your paper, you’re going about it the wrong fucking way, darling. I don’t like bait and switch tactics.”

“I can assure you the thought never crossed my mind.”

“I need to pat you down.”

“You’re kidding!” laughed Adam. 

Nigel invaded Adam’s space and boxed him in against the bar. Adam watched his thick biceps bulge and knew he had to diffuse the situation quickly. ‘_ Me and my mouth. Always gets me in trouble _.’ 

“Nigel, I apologize. I understand your concerns, and I’m willing to comply with your request of a pat-down if you let me buy you a drink afterward.” 

No sooner than the words were out of his mouth than Nigel’s hands started at his neck, moved down his torso before roughly spreading his legs apart and continuing to pat down both of his legs. “Drop trou,” commanded Nigel.

Adam looked at him and opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans, and pulled them down to his knees. “If this is your way of making a pass, you get ten marks for originality.”

“What does it take to shut you up? You’re a mouthy bastard, even if you are gorgeous. I have things I need to protect.” said Nigel as he shoved a hand between Adam’s legs and checked for wires, being deliberately obnoxious about manhandling his privates and skirting his tempting ass. ‘_ He’s clean. One less thing to worry about. Sizeable package too _.’ 

“I’m sure I could think of something to occupy my mouth, Nigel,” smirked Adam as he pulled his jeans up and tidied himself up. ‘_ He’s got a pair of balls on him as well as good hands. I could stand to have them on me again _.’ “Now you see my intentions are pure, let me buy you a drink.”

“There is nothing pure about you, Adam and that was a horrible pick up line,” said Nigel as he pulled out a bottle of Reyka vodka from the freezer, grabbing two shot glasses. “So why are you here, really?”

“I’m back in town after being in D.C. for a story. I used to frequent this place and heard it was under much better management. I was thirsty. It’s Friday night. Sorry about the quip, I’m out of practice,” said Adam. He picked up the shot glass, miming clinking glasses and tossing it back in one go.

“You want to be careful with this. It’s much better quality than you’re used to,” cautioned Nigel as he poured him another shot. “Better management, huh? So now that you’ve seen it for yourself, is that an accurate assessment?”

“Definitely! I loved the floor show you put on for me.”

“It wasn’t all for you. Sherise needed the tips. And I’ll gut you if you repeat that anywhere whether it’s in print or comes out of your filthy mouth.” Nigel growled the warning and watched the younger man shiver in front of him. ‘You better believe it, asshole. I can be your worst nightmare.’ He slammed the drink and poured himself another, needing to have his hands busy before they grabbed that stupid green scarf.

‘I believe you, Nigel. I certainly do.’ The threat of danger was doing wonders for his interest in the Romanian. He could feel himself thickening at the thought.

“How about a wager?”

“You don’t want to do that, Adam. _ You really fucking, don’t _.”

“I’m not talking about those stupid toothpick tricks or the dollar bill ones. I bet you I can balance a half-full beer on top of three empty beer bottles with three butter knives.”

“What happens if you do it or if you don’t?”

“If I don’t, I pay you for the drinks and leave. If I win, I get a kiss.” 

“All right, but you drink the beer.”

Adam just grinned a Cheshire smile while Nigel raided the recyclables for three empties and grabbed three butter knives from behind the bar. “PBR? I’m not wasting good beer on this,” he said as he reached down to the cooler and grabbed a bottle. He set them on the bar and said, “Do your stuff. If you spill beer all over my clean bar, I’m taking it out of your hide, literally. Want to back out?” 

“Absolutely not.” ‘_ Although it’s very tempting to trade the kiss for that _.’ He grinned at the thought and felt himself throb. Adam watched Nigel twist the cap off, admiring his arms just as he’s done all night long. He grabbed the bottle and downed half of it in one swallow, noting how intently Nigel was staring at him. Adam set the half-full bottle down and arranged the empties in a rough triangle formation on the bar. The distance from each bottle to the other was greater than the distance the knife could reach. He set the handles of two of the knives balanced on two of the empty neck of the bottles with the point of the knives overlapping. He made sure the tip of one knife balanced over the other blade, flush to where it met the handle. He held the blades of the two knives with one hand while with the other knife blade, he balanced the blade under one blade and over the other blade at the apex of the triangle. He made sure each of the three knife blades alternated under and over, meeting in the middle to form a small triangle. He set the half-full bottle on the woven knife blades with its weight equally resting on all of them. He looked up at Nigel and grinned from ear-to-ear. 

“Guess I win the bet, Nigel.” 

“Guess you do at that, gorgeous.”

“What about the beer?”

“What about it? You a quitter or a spitter, hmmm, darling?”

Adam laughed and said, “I’ve never been accused of either one, Nigel.”

Nigel sealed up the vodka bottle and placed it back in the freezer below the bar. He grabbed the three empties and put them back in the recyclables and put the knives in the dirty utensil tray to go back to the kitchen. Adam drank the rest of his beer, wondering how to collect his kiss from the rough-and-tumble Romanian. 

While Adam was deep in thought, Nigel had collected all the dirty glasses, wiped the bar down, and walked around to where Adam was sitting. He leaned against the bar, looking at the attractive man in front of him. He gave a short, shrill whistle and watched him start at the sound. 

“Sorry. I’m shit-faced, I think?” He gave Nigel an inebriated grin and attempted to get down from the barstool without slithering. As his feet touched the ground, he was grabbed by his upper arm and marched away from the bar to one of the nearby tables which was mostly in shadow. 

“There’s no thinking about it, Adam. I’m going to paddle that behind of yours raw for thinking you could come in here and get away with that bar trick. I’ve seen things you haven’t dreamt of yet,” snarled Nigel.

“Wha?” Adam’s fuzzy brain tried to process what he had been just told. Nigel held onto him in a death grip while he moved a chair out of the way, before shoving Adam down onto the table with a muscled hand on his neck.

‘_ Oh this is better than I imagined _,’ he purred to himself. 

“Really? I see I’m going to have to teach you a fucking lesson then,” muttered Nigel in a dangerous growl which lit up all of Adam’s nerves sending a shiver down his spine. “Stay down and don’t move, not one inch.” Nigel’s hand withdrew from his neck, and suddenly, he felt his belt being undone with one hand while the other unzipped him. He whimpered and got a rousing slap on his ass in return. “I don’t want to hear a peep out of you unless I say so.”

Adam was silent and got another stinging slap to his ass cheek. “I didn’t hear any fucking confirmation from you, Adam. What do you say to a command, you nenorocitule!” Two more slaps in quick succession followed.

“Yes, Nigel!” 

Four more hard slaps. “What did you just say to me?” He leaned in close, and Adam can feel the huff of his breath on his cheek. Adam feels his cheeks burn, and he loves it. 

“Yes, sir!”

“That’s more fucking like it.” Nigel pulls back, and Adam hears the jingle of a belt buckle, then the hiss of the leather as it slides through the belt loops. He shudders. “Now gorgeous, this is how it’s going to go. I’m going to give you four more whacks with the belt. Then we'll see what happens after. Hmmm?”

Adam can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Yes, sir!” He can barely hear anything for the pulse pounding in his ears. Nigel moves his legs apart, stroking his cheek as he moves his hand upward. Then nothing. No sound, no movement at all. It’s the waiting, the anticipation. All he wants to do is wriggle and beg. It’s the perfect torture for him. Just when he thinks he can’t take anymore, there’s the crack of the leather against the top part of his thigh, one side and the other in quick succession. Adam nearly screams at the flare of pain and fights himself to keep quiet, under control. He doesn’t hear what Nigel says to him because the noise of his panting is thunderous. 

He feels a caress on his cheek as the fingers wipe away tears he didn’t know he shed. Nigel leans in close. “Adam, maybe four is too many. Talk to me, gorgeous.”

“No! Please, sir, don’t stop! I can take it, whatever you give me I can take it!” Adam is babbling now. He wants this. He didn’t know how much he needs it. It’s been too long. Nigel can see it in his face, in his voice, in every twitch of his muscles.

“All right then, Adam. You can whimper and whine but no screaming. I don’t need the cops called by any of the neighbors. Two more.” 

Adam quiets himself as best he can, struggling to get his pulse and breathing under control. He feels the tip of Nigel’s fingers on one ass cheek, waiting and gauging where he is before he strikes. There’s no caress but just his presence, waiting for him to control himself is enough. He knows the touch will come later, even without asking. He knows what kind of a man Nigel is now. He can do this. He’s done more difficult things. He knows…

Suddenly bursting into his consciousness is the crack of the belt across his backside. The pain flares and explodes across his nerves. He whines, high and thready, arching his back to present his ass up for the final blow. ‘_ It’s going to be so good, _’ he thinks.

“You can’t wait, darling, can you? All right, get ready to fly.” Then the sound of it, the complete rightness of the blow comes, a maelstrom across his flesh and Adam’s soaring.

Nigel drops the belt on the table and scoops up Adam. He slings the drooling, nearly comatose man over his shoulder and carries him to one of the banquettes against the wall. He lays him on his side, sitting down so that Adam’s head is in his lap, his neck over his thigh. “You were perfect, Adam. You took that so wonderfully. I think you would take whatever I gave you, hmm?” Nigel cooed at the trembling man, caressing him and wiping away his tears. “Can you stay here, just like this while I get you some water?” 

“Yes, sir.”

“Shhhh, we’re done with that for now. Who am I, Adam?”

“N-Nigel. You’re Nigel.”

“That’s right. Are you hungry?” Nigel asked and as quick as that, Adam’s stomach rumbled. Nigel chuckled, a lovely, warm, rumbling laugh. Adam wanted to hear it again.

“Please,” he croaked. 

“Shhhh. Don’t say anything. That’s an order. I’ll be back with some water.” Nigel’s calloused fingers brushed against Adam’s curls, and his eyes fluttered closed as he rubbed his cheek against the Romanian’s thigh. Nigel cupped his head while he stood up and put it back down gently on the padded seat. He walked to the table, retrieved his belt, and put it on. He replaced the chair back in its place and quickly walked behind the bar to get a large glass of ice water and a straw. 

Adam closed his eyes and listened to the rhythm of Nigel’s feet walking across the floor. He thought his heartbeat in time with them but wasn’t sure. The footsteps stopped, and he opened his eyes to find the Romanian kneeling down slipping a straw between his lips and hearing him tell him to drink slowly. 

Nigel held the ice water glass in both his hands and waited patiently for Adam to finish drinking. 

“Have you had enough, darling? Can you sit up slowly?”

Adam nodded and wiped his hand across his mouth. He sat up following Nigel’s suggestion and did a full-body shiver of delight as the pain exploded when his ass made contact with the padded bench. “Are you here with me, Adam or do you need longer?”

“I’m here, Nigel,” he said and meant it. Nigel cupped his cheek and stroked his cheekbone.

“I do believe you are, you minx. Can you stand?”

Adam nodded and rose to his feet. He let Nigel pull up his pants, careful not to touch his tender backside while Adam zipped himself up and tightened his belt. 

“Are you good?” murmured Nigel.

“I’m perfect,” drawled Adam as he captured Nigel’s muscular arms in his hands and pulled him down for a kiss. It was filthy, wet and wanton, full of teeth and a bit of blood. In every way, wonderful.

“I do believe you are, Adam. Shall we get some breakfast? There’s a place around the corner which does lovely things with hot chicken and waffles. How does that sound?” Nigel pressed his lips to Adam’s forehead and heard his stomach rumble again. 

They chuckled together as they walked out the door. Nigel locked up, and they walked to the end of the corner and turned left. Neither of them saw the wink of the light reflecting on a nearly empty ice glass on the floor, sitting in its own puddle of water, an innocent reminder of the adventures of the evening.


End file.
